Dandelions
by Tasogare-Taichou
Summary: Rukia's musings on what draws her to the ordinary flowers.


Dandelions

Sunset. Well, almost. The radiant circle of the sun had only just begun to darken itself in preperation for the mask of night as it traversed it's lazy path towards the horizon when she'd settled herself on the hill overlooking the canal. Laying back against the soft green of the summer grass, one small hand felt around to one side, slender fingertips brushing against the collected stems that rested there, their green stalks tied with a simple white ribbon. Turning her head to glance at them, she wrapped fingers around the bouquet as she sat up and pulled the simple cluster of blossoms into her lap.

Dandelions. Simple, ordinary, their thick green stalks stretching up to clasp gently around the tufts of buttery-yellow petals with their faintest hint of orange. Weeds, some might call them, these ordinary denizens of most any hill or grassy area that you happened to come across during the summer months. But to the small, dark-haired shinigami who sat holding the flowers in her lap as she closed her eyes to the light breeze that had begun to pick up, they were anything but. Certainly, the flowers might have been ordinary and common when compared to the sorts of flowers that you could buy in a shop. But that wasn't what appealed to her about them. They were common, and ordinary, but at the same time they grew with a wild abandon, exploding in riotous bloom everywhere that they could manage to find root. The fluffy yellow blossoms reared their heads from plains and forests and even the minute amounts of space between stones of walls and cracks in sidewalks. A dandelion, unlike a rose or a tulip, would live. Where other flowers, when faced with the harshness of the blinding sun and such a scant supply of soil and water, withered away and faded the dandelions remained. Hardy, strong. Growing with the same sort of strength and determination that their larger cousins the trees possessed, and yet managing to do so while still clinging stubbornly to their own identity.

And the blooms refused to die. Anyone could tell you that it was impossible to kill a dandelion. No matter how many times you ripped off the fragile-seeming blossoms, cut down the stalk that reached heavenward, crushed the roots and leaves under your heel, the persistent plants would return, stretching new leaves and stalks towards the sun as they burst forth into a cacophony of colour and life. They grew through winter, through snow, through blazing heat that scorched the earth around them, clinging to life with a death-grip that refused to be denied. She…liked that about them.

Reaching to the side and grasping another thick stalk, she gave a tug as the flower gave way. Carefully sliding it down into the bouquet, Rukia fingered the white ribbon gently before pulling it off and pulling a thin black one from her pocket. Laying it on top of the thicker white one, she fastidiously retied the bow and smiled at the contrast. Black and white. Dark and light, touching and yet remaining separate. The one never far from the other. Black and white. Those were the colours of her world, the world that she came from. So unlike the human world, with it's warmth and sunshine-laden hues. Glancing up as a shadow suddenly blocked the setting sun's warmth, she squinted up at Ichigo where he stood in front of her. Bending over slightly, hands on his hips, he regarded her with that characteristic scowl.

"Where the hell have you been? We were looking for you. Come on."

Glancing at the flowers, he rolled his eyes.

"And what the fuck is so great about those stupid weeds, anyway? They're not that special, ya know."

She smiled slightly, with a faint chuckle.

"I just like them, Ichigo. They make me smile, for some reason."

He huffed and turned away to stare at the sun as it set over the water. "Look, just…don't vanish like that again, ok?" Feeling his cheeks warm slightly, he added in a quiet voice. "I don't…want to have to worry about you."

The smile was on her face again as she reached over to pluck another dandelion. She really did love these things, afterall. Glancing up at the back of Ichigo's head, she watched as the sun reflected off of his orange hair, shifting slightly in the breeze. Holding up the flower, her eyes took on a warmer tone as she watched the crimson rays strike the fluffy head of the flower, tainting the buttery-gold petals that same brilliant flame-hued orange. Yeah. Dandelions always _did_ make her smile.


End file.
